Hiding
by noflowerinmyhair
Summary: Draco saves Hermione from Bellatrix at Malfoy Manor, but where are they now? How long will they be there? Dramione : rated M for later chaps
1. Chapter 1

Hermione's eyes fluttered open. She felt like she had been sleeping for days, and tried to recall what had happened. She thought hard, but this only ended up hurting her head. Something else hurt too, she realized. She glanced down at her aching arm and nearly hurled at what she saw.

Hermione's arm was a bloody mess, the pale silkiness of her skin was marred by the deep burgundy that had dried over multiple cuts. This brought back memories of what had happened to her.

They had been at Malfoy Manor, and Bellatrix had been torturing her. She had carved 'mudblood' into her arm. Hermione lifted her hand and felt the dried tears still on her cheeks. It couldn't have been that long since Malfoy Manor, then.

She looked around her, taking in her surroundings. They were completely unfamiliar. The walls were gray, and looked to be of bare cement, with nothing adorning the walls. The floor was also cement, with a cheap woven rug thrown here and there. She was sitting on a creaky old cot, in what she guessed was the bedroom. Her shoes looked to have been thrown haphazardly in the middle of the room, one on a rug and one not. Beside the dark wood door there was a hook, where her beaded bag hung. She looked down at her unharmed arm, and saw there was a chain attaching her to the metal bed post. She panicked at this.

Where were Harry and Ron? Did they get out safely? Why wasn't she dead, but instead chained to an unfamiliar bed?

The answer to the last of these questions came walking through the dark wooden door moments after.

"Malfoy," Hermione spat. "I should have known. Let me go!"

"Granger," the blonde acknowledged. "You should be thanking me. I saved your life, after all."

"_Saved me_?" Hermione screeched. If only she knew how wild she looked in that instant. Her hair bushy and uncombed, her blood smeared on her face, her eyes such of an animal. "You have me chained to a bed!"

"There isn't anything else to chain you to. And I couldn't have you running off to Potty and Weasel. You would just tell them where I am, and I can't have that. I have more powerful people to run from, now," Malfoy sneered.

"Well I can't very well tell Harry and Ron where you are if I don't know, now can I?" Hermione retorted, leaving out the part that she couldn't leave to tell them anyway as she was chained up.

"We're in a shack in northern Scotland," Malfoy supplied.

This took Hermione by surprise. Why would he tell her where they were? Why was she even _here_ for Merlin's sake!

"What are you planning to do, Malfoy?" she inquired. She didn't know why, she knew she wouldn't get any answers. Or if she did they would be leering taunts and lies.

"Nothing, Granger. I'm hiding, and now you're hiding with me. You see, Granger, I saved your life back at the Manor. I told them I would execute you, and so I took you and I disapparated. They're looking for me right now, to kill me. Because I'm a blood traitor now, for saving a life," Malfoy explained. Hermione was silent, not expecting this. Finally, she thought of something semi-coherent to say.

"If you saved me then why do you have me chained up?"

"I told you before: I can't have you running off to Potty and Weasel," he repeated.

"I have no way of knowing where they are," Hermione whispered, feeling defeaten. She was stuck here with Malfoy, without a wand, for an indefinite amount of time. "Do you have my wand?" she asked a little louder. She had always had a strong connection with her wand. She didn't know about anybody else, but it was something comforting to her. It was always around, she even kept it near when sleeping. It's what linked her to her magic, and she reveled in the feeling. Without it she felt as if she was missing a part of herself.

"No," Malfoy answered simply, and Hermione's heart dropped. "Bellatrix broke it at the Manor. I'm sorry."

She remembered how after Godric's Hollow Harry had to use her wand until Ron came back with an extra wand from a thug. Harry had been stoic, but she knew it hurt him that his wand was irreparable. That's how she felt now.

"I came in to heal you. I don't want those cuts on your arm to get infected," Malfoy said. "I can't heal infection."

"You're being…civil, Malfoy," Hermione observed.

"May as well start now, it might be a long time until this war is over," he answered. The conversation ended, and Malfoy went about cleaning and healing her wounds. Apparent she had bruises all over her face, but she couldn't feel them which she was thankful for. Once he was done he tucked his wand away and looked her in the eyes. "It hasn't stopped bleeding," Malfoy said, indicating her left forearm.

"How long has it been, since…" Hermione couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence, but he understood what she was asking.

"About two days, give or take a couple of hours. It should have stopped bleeding by now, something is wrong with it. You've lost a lot of blood already," Malfoy stated. Hermione searched his face and saw that he looked almost…concerned. That couldn't be right! The Draco Malfoy she knew, being concerned about a mudblood? What a world that would be to live in!

"Do you have any blood-replenishing potions?" Hermione asked, her schooling automatically kicking in, she started wracking through the multitudes of healing information in her mind.

"No. I barely have enough food here, and I'm the only one that's been eating so far. You should eat, but not much. Your body has to get used to eating again," Malfoy explained. "There is bread, water, and some Muggle canned food. It's disgusting, really. I would have apparated to get food but I didn't want to leave you here alone."

This stumped Hermione. "Why?"

"You might have died the way you've been bleeding!" he shouted. "I was _surprised_ when it started to dry on your arm. That dagger that my Aunt Bella used obviously had dark incantations upon it. I saved you so I wouldn't have to see you die, I realize that is incredibly selfish of me."

With that Malfoy stormed from the room, and at the same time her arm started bleeding once more. However, this didn't register in Hermione's mind as she was too busy mulling over what he had said. He seemed genuinely concerned over whether Hermione lived or died, and appalled that Hermione didn't get that. And what about the end of his shouting when he had said that he had saved her so he wouldn't have to watch her die? And why was that selfish of him? She actually thought quite fondly on that point, though her stand could have been biased because hers had been the life in peril.

"Shit," Malfoy cursed, coming into the room with a food plate in hand. He had seen Hermione's arm bleeding once again and placed the place on a small end table she had not noticed before and hurried to grab a towel from the other end of the bed. It was pink, but she could tell it used to be white. Malfoy must have used it a lot these past two days. He pressed it to her arm and it quickly soaked up the blood spilling from her cuts. "Go ahead and eat." Malfoy nodded to the plate. Hermione's stomach rumbled in agreement and she reached out and set the plate of food on her lap.

On the place was a chunk of a baggette and two cold raviolis smeared with red sauce. There was no fork, but she dug in without questioning it. The French bread was hard and nearly stale, and the ravioli were slimy and unappetizing. Once they slid down her throat she had a feeling they would be back up fairly soon.

"Ugh," Hermione groaned at the thought.

"What?" Malfoy asked.

"I just have a bad feeling that those ravioli might be rejoining us soon," she told him.

Malfoy laughed, and Hermione thought that was highly inappropriate. "What?" she snapped.

"The way you said that. Instead of 'I'm going to hurl'." Hermione laughed too, though it didn't help her stomach any.

"Do you just hold that towel there until I stop bleeding?" Hermione inquired.

Malfoy nodded, "Yes."

"How long does it usually bleed?"

"It usually bleeds for five or six hours," Malfoy told her.

"W-what?" Hermione stuttered. She was shocked, not only at how long she bled at one time, but how long Malfoy sat and took care of her!

"I can't just let you bleed to death, what else do you propose I do?" Malfoy snapped. Hermione didn't answer, but tried to focus on not throwing up. This worked for a while, but the salivating was disgusting.

"Malfoy," she hissed after a half an hour. "I'm going to - " Hermione was cut off by the content of her stomach.

"Shit! A little warning, Granger!" Malfoy yelled, jumping up to get out of the way.

The actual hurling didn't last long, but Hermione shook with dry heaves as her body tried to dispel every last bit of the offending substances. Malfoy didn't know what to do, so he just sat there pressing on her arm with the now soaked towel.

This lasted for about an hour, in which Malfoy just sat there and wondered what _else_ he should do. Finally, Hermione was able to manage some words.

"Malfoy, wet rag please," she panted.

Hermione was absolutely mortified. Not only was she chained to a bed while Malfoy tended her, but now she was chained to a bed while Malfoy tended her _and watched her hurl_. It was insanely humiliating, but she was very glad when the Slytherin walked briskly back into the room with the wet rag she had requested. Hermione took it gratefully and wiped off her face before wiping the traces of vomit off of her lips.

"May I please have a glass of water?" Hermione asked.

"Sure, Granger," Malfoy complied.

He came back within a minute with a grungy looking plastic cup full of water. She threw back the whole thing, and just as Malfoy was about to protest to her drinking so fast, she spit it all back out into the cup.

"Thanks," Hermione said after rinsing her mouth out.

Malfoy rushed out of the door once more and came back with a pail of water and another stained towel. The pureblood grimaced as he got down on his hands and knees to clean the mess Hermione had just made. Hermione blushed furiously at this, having to be cleaned up after by Malfoy of all people.

"I could do that Malfoy…" Hermione offered.

"No you can't. You're still bleeding, and besides, I want to sleep tonight without smelling this," he said.

Hermione sat on the bed, dumbfounded. Malfoy was different, very different from the boy she had known sixth year at Hogwarts. He seemed older, more mature, but sadder somehow. Sad and compliant. He also didn't seem to mind touching Hermione's 'dirty' blood, though he'd called her a mudblood countless times before. Something in Malfoy had been broken, beaten out of him so that his cockiness and overconfidence had gone.

"Where are you going to sleep?" Hermione asked.

"Same place as you," Malfoy answered simply. "There's only one bed."

Hermione's mouth dropped open as she looked at the bed she was currently sitting on. It was a twin size, creaky old cot. The sheets that had once been white were yellowed with age, and were smeared with dirt and blood. There was a thin light brown quilt piled at the end of the bed, looking like it had been kicked off in a fitful sleep. To her right at what seemed to be the head of the bed was a neatly folded dark grey quilt, that must have acted as a pillow as there wasn't another actual pillow to be seen. The beds metal frame was pushed against a wall, and she was sitting on and chained to the outer edge.

While she had been assessing the tiny bed Malfoy had left with his bucket and towel and left only a wet spot on the floor. It was the only trace of her being sick.

Hermione thought of what he had said, that he wanted to go to sleep. It must be night then. Hermione yawned, even though she had apparently been unconscious for two days.

Malfoy appeared in the doorway and walked over to the small bed. He set Hermione's wounded arm out of the way and pushed her gingerly back toward the wall, without speaking a word. He spread the light brown quilt over her and adjusted the 'pillow' so it was large enough for the both of them. Still silent, he climbed into the bed, facing her. He pulled Hermione's arm towards him, so he could apply pressure to it once again.

"You can sleep if you're tired," Malfoy told her.

"I don't think that I'll be able to sleep next to _you_," she hissed. In fact, the two were even closer than just 'next to'. Their legs were touching, and the only thing that separated their torsos was Hermione's injured arm. Their faces were so close together that all they needed was the barest whisper to be heard by the other.

"I'm just as uncomfortable as you are, trust me. But no _Malfoy_ would sleep on the _floor_," he said in a low voice. "So _relax_ and _sleep_," he ordered.

At this Hermione had to stifle a yawn. She was mentally exhausted, as well as physically. Two days ago she had been with Harry and Ron, hunting Horcruxes across the English countryside. Now here she was, lying in a tiny cot with one of her greatest enemies and he was telling her to _relax, _while helping her with her eternally bleeding wound inflicted by some dark magic on a blade his own aunt had used to torture her with.

She fell asleep instantly.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione woke up wrapped in Draco's arms, and though she felt immediately repulsed at her enemy touching her in such an intimate way, she didn't move. It was really _really _cold and the quilt did nothing to help that. The two were still facing each other, and the towel was no longer being pressed on Hermione's arm, but her arm looked just as bad as it had when she had first woken up yesterday. She looked to see if Malfoy was awake - and therefore _voluntarily_ holding her like this - and was astonished to see that he was.

"What are you _doing_?" Hermione hissed at him.

"You were shivering like crazy and I couldn't sleep!" Malfoy hissed right back.

"Well I'm awake now, so let me go!" Hermione said, her voice a little louder than necessary at how close they were.

"Gladly," Malfoy muttered and immediately released his hold on her. She almost regretted it, because it was so very cold.

"It must be snowing outside if it's this cold!" she exclaimed, sitting up on the bed. Malfoy sat up, too, and gave the quilt to her. She was about to protest when he grabbed their 'pillow' and unfolded it to wrap himself in it.

"It is," was his short answer. He hopped off the bed and grabbed his wand. "I need to clean your arm."

Hermione held it out gratefully, because her arm was disgusting. "_Scourgify_." Hermione's arm was now clean, but this only revealed that the cuts still looked fresh on her arm.

_Mudblood._

No matter what happened, if it healed or not, that would be on her arm her whole life through. Tears pricked in her eyes at this thought. She was marked like…like cattle with a cattle prod!

Tears slipped silently down Hermione's face, and Draco didn't notice until he was done with his healing spells.

"Come on, Granger. Stop being such a sissy," Malfoy sneered at her.

"You insensitive prat!" Hermione snapped. "I'm in the middle of nowhere, I don't know where my friends are, my parents don't know I exist and are having the time of their lives in Australia, You-Know-Who is rising to power, and to top it all off I was tortured two days ago by your _aunt_ in your _house_!"

"It's not a house, it's a manor," Malfoy corrected. Hermione made a sound of frustration at this.

"That's all you have to say! Why don't you make yourself useful and get some food!" Hermione shouted.

"Can't," Malfoy said. He didn't seemed very pleased that he couldn't, either.

"And. Why. Not?" the question escaped between her clenched teeth.

"You might start bleeding soon, and as I've explained _before_, my saving you would become quite redundant if you bled to death on my watch,"

"I suppose that is a decent reason," Hermione admitted angrily.

Malfoy reached in his back pocket and brought out a key. He reached over to one of the metal rods on the end of the bed, the one with that connected her to the bed with a heavy chain, and unlocked it. Then he put the cuff on himself so that Malfoy and Hermione were chained together.

"Can't take any chances," Malfoy said disdainfully.

"Why even unlock me from the bed if I have to be chained to you," Hermione grumbled. "I'd much rather the bed."

Malfoy didn't mention it, but he had a sneaking suspicion that if he left the room, she'd start bleeding again. Every time he had left the room he had come back and her arm would be oozing the offensive red liquid. His aunt was a clever woman, and though she might never have imagined Malfoy rescuing Granger, she was definitely wary of Harry Potter and his friends. They had escaped things far worse before, and this time she wanted to make sure that she instilled some kind of suffering to whomever rescued Hermione Granger. Of course, this was just a precaution. Bellatrix had never truly counted on the rescue of the girl. Of this, Malfoy was certain.

"Where are my shoes, Malfoy? The floor will be freezing," Hermione asked.

"We aren't getting up. The reason it's so cold in here is because there is no front door, only a thick rug that I hung."

"Malfoy, you never cease to amaze me! There are _millions_ of places you could have chosen to hide out, and you chose Scotland, in the middle of winter, in a shack _with no door_?" Hermione said unbelievingly.

"I could have chosen a dungeon, locked you up there, and left for…Australia! Or I could have just left you at the Manor to die in the first place!" Malfoy shouted, angry at her denunciation of him.

"Don't mock my parents," Hermione said quietly.

"What? Have you gone nutters, Granger? I didn't say a word about your parents!" Malfoy exclaimed.

"Just…don't," Hermione said, effectively killing the argument.

It was silent for a while. It wasn't the kind of uncomfortable silence you can have with someone you just met but having nothing to say to, but the kind of uncomfortable silence that you have with someone you know and hate. They both sat wrapped in the old, stained quilts that were fraying slightly at the edges. They were both trying very hard not to shiver, because neither wanted to show weakness to the other. Both were holding back their hunger in an attempt to see the other break first and ask for food. However, Hermione could not hold back the rumbling of her stomach after so long without food.

Malfoy shifted his position so his feet were hanging off of the bed and pulled on his shoes. He then stood up. "Get on."

"What?" Hermione asked, completely confused.

"Get on my back, Granger," Malfoy repeated himself.

"But - " Hermione started to protest, but Malfoy cut her off.

"Just do it," Malfoy commanded, and his tone was so threatening that she shed her blanket and got on her enemies back with no more questions asked. As soon as her blanket left her, she regretted it. She held on more tightly to Malfoy, hoping he wouldn't notice. His body was warm, and so she pressed herself to him and tried very hard not to shiver.

Malfoy walked forward and opened the bedroom door. To the left was a giant rug hung on three nails, covering what she was sure to be the door. There were was a counter on the right side of the room, and a decrepit, small dining table in the center. Above the counter were a couple of cabinets. There was even a sink, that apparently had running water judging by her small dinner last night. Malfoy carried her to the cabinet.

"What do you want?" he asked, opening the cabinet. It was full of cans of all sizes. There wasn't a way to cook any of this, so she looked for things she could stand to eat cold. Finally she grabbed a can of French cut green beans. "That all?"

"Yeah," Hermione answered. "I want bread, too."

Malfoy grabbed a can for himself and opened a different cabinet and grabbed a hunk of bread, twice the size of the one Hermione had eaten last night. While unwrapping and wrapping the bread he had to use his hands, so he wasn't holding Hermione up. This meant that she had to wrap her legs around him, and tried to ignore the curious thing she found happening on the front of his torso.

Malfoy was trying to ignore that very same fact, along with Hermione's soft body pressed so close to him. This past year he had not been with a single girl, due to his duties to the Dark Lord. His body could not help reacting to Hermione's body clinging so close to his - even though she was the single most annoying know-it-all bookworm he had ever had the displeasure to meet.

He hurried up and carried her back into the room and set her down quickly. He hurriedly pulled a quilt around her, and another around him, separating them. Malfoy couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief at this.

After Malfoy opened the cans they both devoured their food, Hermione even going so far as to soak up the cold bean juice with her stale bread. Oddly, throughout their meal there was a slightly comfortable silence. Hermione could not help but notice this, and wondered what had caused the relaxation of the uncomfortable side of it all. After all, the excursion to the kitchen had been one of the most uncomfortable couple of minutes of her entire life.


End file.
